


Reflections

by hannahindie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean being a sweetheart, Dean x Reader, F/M, Insecurities, Reader Insert, Supernatural - Freeform, kinda angst, spn fanfic, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 22:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahindie/pseuds/hannahindie
Summary: The reader has a hard time dealing with her inner demons, and Dean tries to help.





	Reflections

My reflection frowns back at me as I stare into the mirror, my fingers roaming over the stretch marks that shine in the dim light of the lamp. Normally, this is not something that grabs my attention and pauses my morning routine, but today…today everything feels wrong, off. I stare at myself, standing in my pajama shorts and bra, and every single imperfection screams at me.

My hand moves to my side and pinches the extra fat around my waist, the years of gas station snacks and diner food taking their toll. I’ve always been curvier, always had that little bit of extra, but the older I get the harder it seems to get rid of it. Despite all the hunting, my adoration for all things unhealthy has left its mark. I sigh as my eyes wander; I’m covered in various scars and bruises, some fresh, some old reminders of the past. Everything seems to stand out today, and I can feel the familiar ache in my chest as I try my hardest not to cry.

It seems silly. There are worse things in this world than a few blemishes and extra fat, but today it’s all I can see. I can feel it; the panic of having to leave my room to do anything is threatening to take over and my hands clench into fists as I fight the urge to do something I have not done for a long time. I look up and meet my reflection’s judgemental stare. My eyes look tired. Hell, I look like death warmed over. Welcome to round two of “What’s wrong with Y/N” today. The tears I have been holding back threaten to spill over as I continue to stare at myself, my fingers tracing the pale, unblemished skin on my forearm as I think about how I used to deal with these feelings, this overwhelming urge to feel something other than this smothering darkness that was threatening to take me down for the rest of the day. I was so absorbed by my internal fight that I didn’t hear the light knock on my door or when Dean slowly opened it when I didn’t immediately answer.

“Y/N?”

His deep voice startles me and I scramble to grab my t-shirt, “Shit, Dean! Have you ever heard of knocking?” He’s standing there looking at me, his green eyes full of concern as he takes in the scene in front of him. It’s then I realize that my battle with my tear ducts has been lost as I feel the tears pour down my face. Traitor.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

I sigh, “Nothing, I’m fine. Bad dream.” I have suddenly forgotten how to put my shirt on, not to mention I know that any movement I make will draw attention and I don’t need Dean to see me.

He takes a step towards me and I involuntarily flinch. He looks hurt, but I can’t find the words to tell him it’s not him.

“Why are you crying?”

I swallow thickly, the lump in my throat making it almost impossible to answer, “I…um…it’s just a bad day for me, Dean.” He takes another step towards me and this time I stay put.

“Why is it a bad day?” I look down at where I’m holding my shirt, the fabric barely covering my front. I say nothing, but when I look back up at him I can tell that he knows. I don’t know how he knows, but I can see it in his eyes. “Y/N…”

“It’s….you know what, it’s stupid. It’s just sometimes I wake up and what I see…I hate it. It’s ridiculous, there’s other stuff to worry about…” I trail off as Dean’s hand reaches out and touches mine. He’s moved closer to me as I was talking and was standing incredibly close. I feel my chest tighten as the anxiety begins to creep back in, “Dean…”

“What could you possibly hate about yourself?” He says it quietly, almost as if he is talking to himself and for a moment I don’t know how to answer him. He dips down slightly so that his eyes can meet mine and my heart races. What is he doing? He slowly reaches up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear and searches my face as if looking for an answer that I don’t have. “Y/N?”

I close my eyes, afraid to keep looking into his, “Everything,” I whisper, “All the stretchmarks and scars, my weight…it just gets overwhelming. It’s not always like this…there’s just these moments where it hits me and I can’t…I can’t ignore all of these flaws. No matter what I do, there’s this little voice telling me that I’m not good enough.” Dean looks at me quietly for a moment then slowly reaches for my t-shirt. I freeze, unsure of what to do. He gently pulls the soft fabric away from me and tosses it on the bed. I wrap my arms around myself, terrified of what he will think if he actually sees me. I feel his rough hands on my arms as he slowly moves my arms to my sides.

“Y/N, look at me.” I pull my lip between my teeth nervously and gently shake my head no. I can’t, not right now. I can’t stand to see the look of disappointment I’m sure to see on his face, it’s the last thing I ever want to see. 

“Y/N, please.” His voice is soft and almost pleading so I do as he says. “I don’t see any flaws. You know what I see? I see a woman who is healthy. Everyone has stretch marks….I have stretchmarks. Our bodies shift and change, and our skin has to stretch and grow with us. And these scars?” His hand softly grazes a prominent one on my collar bone, his eyebrows knitted in concern as he recalls how I got it, “These scars are the scars of a warrior. You have fought for most of your life to protect others, and all the marks tell the story. You’re a freaking fighter, Y/N. Your flaws…they aren’t flaws. They’re what make you _you_. As far as your weight goes…it doesn’t matter.” Both of his hands had slipped down to my hips, his long fingers grasping me tightly. “You are so strong, Y/N. You’re physically strong, but emotionally you’re strong enough to carry both me and Sam. You’ve helped hold us together for a long time. It’s why I…I love you.” He stutters on that last part and I look at him with wide eyes. “I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaves one hand on my hip and the other one grasps mine and slips it under his shirt, right against his stomach. “What do you feel?”

I want to say confusion. Instead I say, “The muscles of a Greek God?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nah, not anymore. I’m getting older, Y/N. I drink way too much, and eat horribly. My body doesn’t look the way it used to. It’s been tortured and beat up, and I really don’t help at all with the abuse I’ve put it through. And sometimes…I look at Sam and I feel like I’m not good enough anymore. I’m getting a little softer, I’m not able to do the same things I used to be able to do. I’m not twenty anymore. What I try to remember, and I know it’s hard…is that we have done a lot for this world. We aren’t perfect, but we’re good enough.” He releases my hand and wipes away a lone tear that has fallen down my cheek. “I love you, Y/N, just the way you are.”

I’m still shocked into silence by his sudden confession, and for the first time since he’s started talking, I realize that my anxiety has lessened. It’s still there, right on the edges and threatening to come back with a vengeance, but Dean’s voice, just his presence really, is enough to help fight it off. I want to say the words back, but it’s hard to speak. Instead I lean up and kiss him, his lips surprisingly soft against mine as they mold perfectly with mine. He tastes like whiskey and apple pie and I can’t help but smile against him as he pulls me closer.

Dean pulls away and smiles at me, “Whaddya say we change clothes and go for a drive, huh? I think the fresh air would be a good way to restart the day.” I nod, and although I know that this will not be the last time I have to fight my demons, knowing that I’m not in it alone is enough to get me through another day.


End file.
